


Is it Narcissism?

by BigJellyMonster (orphan_account)



Series: Harry Potter Prompts [32]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dreams, Dubious Consent, Horcrux Hunting, M/M, Smut, TomarryDarkSpringExchange, horcrux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BigJellyMonster
Summary: Harry can't control his dreams. He can't even remember his own name. In his sleep, all he wants is Voldemort and he is willing to do anything for his attention.





	Is it Narcissism?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story for the TomarryDarkSpringExchange
> 
> For TheDarkLordOfSlytherin. 
> 
> Prompt: In which one of them has a dream of the other which explores sexual tensions for the other. In terms as it is a dream it can deal with odd, taboo, or even down right weird matters even if waking they refuse or do not having feelings of that nature.

Harry thought the dreams would have stopped by now. After all, Harry could accidentally find out some sensitive information if Voldemort didn’t close off his mind. But, he never could remember anything outside of his interactions with the Dark Lord. It was as if the world around them was blurred, and nothing but Voldemort mattered.

 

In these dreams, Harry couldn’t remember who he was; all he could focus on was Voldemort. He forgot that he was supposed to be hunting down Horcruxes, and finding a way to save everyone from the wrath of a man obsessed with power and eternal life.

 

At first, Harry would just stand there and watch him. It wasn’t so terrible until Harry realized that when he awoke, he could vividly remember every detail of the Dark Lord’s lips, or the way he held a quill in his hand. The information was unnecessary, but he couldn’t get the images out of his head. He didn’t feel the need to share it with his friends either. Why would they need to know the way Voldemort twirled a quill in his hand when he was planning on what to write next?

 

Soon, Harry found himself reaching out to touch him. It was only curious touches at first. What does his robe feel like? What does his skin feel like? His hands ran down the man’s chest and beneath his robes. If he bothered, he could look at what Voldemort had written down on his parchment form over his shoulder, but in his dream altered mind, all he could focus on was the feel of Voldemort’s skin against his hands. Once Harry had the answers to those questions, more popped in his head. Questions that he knew he would never think if he could remember his own name.

 

They rarely spoke. Voldemort often acted like he didn’t even realize that Harry was there. Once, a Death Eater had walked into the room while he was standing behind the Dark Lord, but it was as if they didn’t see him. The only person who even knew that Harry was there was Voldemort and he was choosing to ignore him, except that his head was tilted slightly to the side so that Harry could have easier access to his neck. Harry’s lips traced a line on Voldemort’s neck while the Death Eater gave a report on recent muggleborn activity. Harry did not listen to a word they said, he was too focused on his teeth against the pulse beneath Voldemort’s skin.

 

“My lord, there are still many muggleborns that are roaming free, it is impossible to keep track of them all. But, we have rounded up everyone we could and now Azkaban is overflowing.” The man had his head bowed. He didn’t dare look at his master in fear that he would somehow disrespect him.

 

“Their presence there is only temporary. As much as it pains me to admit, but there is not enough magical blood in our community to keep it alive. Even if their blood is soured by their heritage, we cannot have all of them soulless husks. We still need the numbers in our small society.” Voldemort replied calmly. Harry’s lips brushed the bottom of his ear and his head tilted just a little more to the side.

 

“Yes, my lord,” the Death Eater agreed without hesitation. “What would you have us do?”

 

“Keep filling the cells, and slowly move the ones who have been there the longest out. Make them agree to a vow of silence. They are never allowed to speak of the wizarding world to  _ any _ muggle ever again. I want their family’s memories erased of their existence, and I want it  _ very clear _ that the punishment for breaking their vow will be severe.” Voldemort instructed. Harry’s hand went beneath the collar of his robe. “You are dismissed.”

 

The Death Eater hurried out of the room as though his life depended on it; it might as well have. As soon as the door shut, Voldemort reached his hand around to Harry’s hair and pulled on it until he brought their lips together. The kiss was not romantic in the slightest. It was possessive and Harry could not resist it, his dream altered mind gratefully accepted it with enthusiasm.

 

Harry moved so that he was sitting on Voldemort’s knees.“I see you still haven’t regained your mind in your dreams yet. You are becoming rather brave. Is it because you know they can’t see you, or do you just not care?” Voldemort breathed when Harry finally pulled back so that he could unbutton Voldemort’s shirt.

 

Harry didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mind was too focused on the way Voldemort’s chest felt against his mouth.

 

“You know, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore you while you do this.” Voldemort admitted. “If I have to send someone away because you can’t keep your mouth off of me…” 

 

Harry started sliding off of his lap as his mouth worked its way lower and lower down Voldemort’s chest. He kissed, licked and bit his way to the edge of his pants where he used his teeth to help him unbutton them. 

 

“You  _ are _ getting braver than.” Voldemort’s head fell back, his eyes were closed, and his fingers ran through Harry’s untamable hair. “Well I won’t stop you. I don’t even think you can stop yourself.”

 

Once Voldemort’s cock was free of his pants, Harry wasted no time in taking it into his mouth. He could hear Voldemort moan above him, but he paid no attention to it. His head bobbed against his cock, and a hand gripped onto Voldemort’s thigh for balance. The fingers in his hair sent chills down Harry's spine. They gently pulled against his locks, and then ran along his scalp. 

 

When he pulled back so he could breathe, the hands in his hair gripped tight and pulled his head back so he was forced to look in Voldemort’s eyes.

 

“I still don’t know why you keep doing this. I wonder what goes on in your head when you wake up.” Voldemort looked down into Harry’s eyes and leaned forward. “I bet you still can’t even speak. Tell me you want to stop, Harry.”

 

He couldn’t. Harry never could. He couldn’t even remember his own name. It was impossible for him to form coherent words of any kind, so he couldn’t even begin to protest. All he could think about was his desperate need to be touching the man in front of him. To be joined with him on a level that went beyond physical. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't achieve that so, all he could do was touch Voldemort in every way he could. 

 

Harry tried pulling his head down so he could lick the cock that was just  _ waiting _ for him. But the hand in his hair stopped him.

 

“What do you say, Harry?” Voldemort smirked. “Do you want to stop?”

 

His mouth opened, but only a desperate whine came out. With a smile, Voldemort released his hold and Harry resumed his work. He licked his lips before using his tongue to trace a line along Voldemort’s shaft. Hands returned to his hair, and gently pushed his head down towards the cock in front of him, a sign that Voldemort wanted more. Eagerly, Harry took his cock back in his mouth and moaned when he felt it slide along his tongue. 

 

“Good boy,” Voldemort praised.  When Harry got a rhythm going, Voldemort couldn’t resist thrusting his hips into his mouth. Harry choked when his cock went deeper into his throat but did not protest. “What do your friends say about this? Have you told them yet, or are you too ashamed?” 

 

Harry only moaned in response, the vibrations from his voice only served to bring even more pleasure to the Dark Lord. Voldemort didn’t say anything more, until he was filling Harry’s throat with his seed. “If I ever find you, I’m making you do that outside of your dreams whether you are willing or not.”

 

Harry shot out of bed and vomited on the floor. He was becoming more and more desperate in his dreams to become one with Voldemort in a way that he didn’t understand when he woke up. The aftermath of his dreams left him feeling sick to his stomach and feverish, and it didn’t go away until he stepped outside to clear his head. 

 

Even then, his thoughts would linger on the taste of Voldemort’s cock in his mouth and a curiosity at what it would feel like if he let Voldemort fuck him outside of his dreams. “Stop, stop, stop, stop,” Harry repeated as he hit himself in the head. This was not what he wanted to think about. 

 

“Find the horcruxes, kill Voldemort, save the word. Find the horcruxes, kill Voldemort, save the world.” Harry said it like a prayer. “Don’t think about it, don’t think about it…”

 

An image popped into his head.

 

_ His hands were tied behind his back and he was bent over a desk as Voldemort was telling him to spread his legs. It only took a heartbeat for him to comply, there was no thought of resistance, just excitement. Long fingernails scraped down his back and left long, red, irritated marks. _

 

_ He could feel Voldemort behind him, but he wanted more more more more more more moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremore _

 

_ “If I ever find you…” _

 

“Fuck!” Harry shouted in anger and kicked a nearby tree. When would it ever stop?

“Harry, you don’t have to run from me. Think of all the fun we’ve had together,” Voldemort taunted. 

Ron left, and Harry felt like his world was torn in two. The horcrux had twisted its way into Ron’s mind and poisoned his thoughts against he and Hermione. Harry had started to notice when Ron became irrationally angry at the smallest things, but he had thought that it was because of his hunger. 

 

Hermione did not speak to him for an entire week, and refused to touch the horcrux. She thought that it would make her heartbreak all the more worse if it got into her head like it did Ron. So, Harry wore it for the both of them. He could have left it on the table, but somehow he was drawn to it more than the others and he convinced himself that him wearing it was for the best. 

 

It felt like a living thing against his chest. The horcrux seemed to have its own heartbeat ticking away against his skin, and produced its own warmth. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he swore he could hear someone whispering in his ear but he could not make out what they were saying. 

 

Harry felt lonely even though Hermione was only a few yards away from him at all times. With no one to talk to, it was hard to resist the connection he had to Voldemort that seemed to be growing stronger every day. Even as he, once again, listened to the sound of Hermione’s tears, he thought about the way his hands felt running down the Dark Lord’s chest. 

 

When Harry’s thoughts became too overwhelming for him, he would turn to his best friend and they would play a game of chess or talk about anything they could come up with. But, he did not have that luxury any more. The  _ need _ to be near Voldemort, to be  _ touching _ him, was impossible to ignore, and it was dominating his other thoughts. 

 

He wanted to claw out his brain and tear out his eyes because it felt like he was broken. It was as if his mind belonged to someone else, and he was no longer in control of the way he felt. 

 

By the time Hermione started speaking to him again, Harry already felt the presence of the horcrux embedding itself in his mind. Somehow, it felt more familiar than anything. Like it had always been there except now its presence was more known. 

 

“Harry, let me wear it. I can keep it safe for a while,” Hermione finally told him one morning. 

 

_ She will try to keep us apart. Don’t let the mudblood take me away from you.. _

 

“No, it’s fine. I can keep watch over it. It doesn’t effect me the same as it did… well you know,” Harry said with a strained smile. 

 

Hermione did not believe him, and made a reach for it. 

 

_ KEEP HER AWAY FROM ME _

 

“I think we need to focus more on looking for a way to destroy this thing, don’t you?” Harry jumped backwards out of her reach and moved to the other side of the tent. “Have you any more ideas?”

 

No, she had not. They were running out of time.

 

“Good boy, Harry,” 

 

Voldemort praised. Harry was letting Voldemort explore his body. He was not allowed to move while Voldemort was running his hand down his chest, his thighs, his arse. Harry wanted to  _ touch,  _ but he was not allowed. He was just supposed to stand there while Voldemort did what he wanted, but it was  _ not enough. _

 

Harry looked at Voldemort with pleading eyes. A will that seemed not his own,  _ begged _ him to reach out to connect to the Dark Lord, but he was not allowed. Voldemort had found a way to bind him to the spot.

 

“P-Please,” Harry was desperate. It did not even feel like it was him talking. “Please.”

 

_ Moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremore _

 

“You speak,” Voldemort smirked and placed a hand on Harry’s cheek. His eyes roamed down Harry’s naked form like someone admiring their property. 

 

“Please,” Harry begged again, his head tilting into Voldemort’s hand. Eyes closed in ecstasy as it ran over his scar “Please…”

 

“Please, what,” Voldemort teased as he pulled away, and Harry whimpered. “I need you to talk to me, Harry. Where are you?” 

 

Harry looked like he was struggling to answer. His brows furrowed and his lips formed into a frown. “I..I…” he choked. 

 

“Hmm?” Voldemort leaned in close as though taunting him. “Did you say something?”

 

“I...I can’t. I can’t,” Harry struggled to say, his breathing became heavier like he had just run a marathon. “Please.”

 

“Harry how am I supposed to touch you if you aren’t even here? Don’t you want this to be real, Harry? Don’t you want more?” Voldemort’s lips were  _ almost _ touching his cheek. 

 

“Yes…” Harry sighed. He needed  _ more _ . “Yes, please.” He wanted to reach out and  _ touch _ but he couldn’t. “Please… Please…”

“Tell me, Harry,” Voldemort whispered. His breath just brushing against Harry’s cheek.

 

Harry opened his mouth and….

  
  


When Harry woke up, he did not get a chance to warn Hermione. He did not get a chance to defend himself. Voldemort had torn down the wards and shot the fateful green curse at his friends before he could even get to his feet. 

 

“There you are,” Voldemort crooned. “And here I thought that his would be more difficult.” He was sitting on Harry’s legs, and could feel the hardness that he still had from his dream. His hands gripped Harry’s wrists and held them above his head so he couldn’t fight.

 

“Get off,” Harry screamed. Tears fell from his eyes at his friend's death. He had lost, and he knew it.

 

“That’s not what you were saying a few moments ago,” Voldemort grinned, and his eyes briefly looked down to Harry’s obvious erection. “In fact… You seemed to enjoy my attention. I only came here to give you want you wanted, Harry.” 

 

Harry shook his head in denial and tried to struggle free. 

 

“I wonder… why is that?” Voldemort looked at Harry curiously before leaning down and biting the lobe of Harry’s ear. Harry screamed in shock and in pain the moment he felt the sharp pain of his teeth. When Voldemort came close to Harry’s scar he felt something so  _ familiar _ to him, it was impossible to ignore.

 

_ More. More. Moremoremoremoremoremoremore _

 

“What is this?” Voldemort pulled back and looked down at the famous scar. His head tilted curiously and then he leaned down to press his lips against it. 

 

Suddenly, Harry stopped struggling and let out a moan. “You’re here. You found me,” Harry sighed in content. 

 

Voldemort moved so that his and Harry’s foreheads were touching and he could look into Harry’s  _ red  _ eyes. “My Horcrux,” he whispered in understanding. “How did you get in there?”

 

“You’re here,” Harry said again a strange smile on his face. “You found me.”

 

“Yes, I found you,” Voldemort grinned and gave his horcrux a possessive kiss. “I found you.”

 

_ More more more _

 

“More will come later,” Voldemort grinned as he pulled away. Harry returned back to normal, the red in his eyes quickly fading and he returned to struggling against Voldemort’s hold over him. “But for now I think we need to get you somewhere safe, hmm?” 

  
Voldemort grabbed a hold of Harry’s neck and apparated them away. Before they left, Voldemort questioned on whether or not their relationship would be considered Narcissism or not. It was his own  _ soul _ that was so desperate to be with him after all. 


End file.
